


Is That an Order?

by merildis



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: David has a huge crush, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Miller very much likes taking advantage of said crush, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10464177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merildis/pseuds/merildis
Summary: David probably should have been paying more attention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much nothing but a shitty handjob and I'm not sure if I'm sorry.

David probably should have been paying more attention to the time. _Really,_ he probably shouldn't have been here in the first place, but, well, it’s a little undignified to be popping a boner in the middle of training just because Master Miller praised him in _just_ the right voice, and besides, someone is eventually going to notice. Which is exactly why Dave is currently standing in the deserted showers with his forearm braced against the wall, sliding his pants far enough down his hips to fish out his half-hard cock. He gives an experimental stroke and can’t help the breathy noise that escapes his lips, forehead falling against his arm and eyes fluttering closed. It isn’t ideal – if he had more time (and more privacy), he’d find some lube and take it slower, but at the moment he’s too desperate and horny to care, cock hard and heavy in his palm.

He lets his mind wander, but it comes back to Miller anyway. Dave would be embarrassed if he weren’t so wrapped up in Miller’s imaginary bionic hand closing around his throat while the flesh one trails down his chest and stomach, grateful for his perfect memory of their one-on-one training sessions. He can almost imagine it’s the Master’s hand wrapping tight around the base of his cock rather than his own – the thought drags a moan out of his throat before he can stop it, Miller’s name dripping from his tongue like honey. He strokes himself agonizingly slow, thinks about the way Miller’s voice would sound next to his ear, how he would smell like sweat and that expensive cologne he keeps in his desk drawer, and how hot his breath would be on the back of his neck. “Fuck, Master,” he pants, his own hand working faster now, drawing his thumb over the tip and smearing pre down his length.

But really, even like this, David should have been careful. He doesn’t hear the footsteps until the intruder is sidling up behind him, twisting their fingers into his hair. David goes stock-still, muscles coiled in anticipation, but he knows who it is before they speak – the woody cologne is too familiar to mistake. “You’re late to training, David,” Miller’s voice is smooth in his ear, sending chills down his spine. Before Dave can speak, the hand in his hair slides over his mouth instead, and the metal one cups his throat almost gently before he squeezes tight enough that it’s difficult for David to swallow. “But by all means, don’t stop on my account, hm?”

This absolutely should not be happening. Dave’s mind is reeling, spinning out of control – seconds ago, he was fantasizing about Master Miller choking him and now his bionic hand is pressed against his windpipe, his body flush against Dave’s own, and he’s telling him to _keep going?_ It doesn’t make sense. Miller lets his hand fall away from David’s mouth, seemingly confident that he isn’t going to make a fuss, and drops it lower, fingertips tracing ridges of hard muscle until they catch the hem of his shirt. “Is that an order, sir?”  Dave asks carefully, shuddering under his light touch.

Miller laughs, warm against David’s skin and setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. “Of course it is, soldier.”

Well, David has always been good at following orders. “Yes, sir,” he mutters, voice trembling. He’s painfully aware of Miller’s hand on his stomach, of the warmth of his body pressed against his own, of his metal hand closed around his throat. Dave swallows, and finally moves again, giving a few slow, experimental strokes before picking up the pace. He can’t help the desperate whine in the back of his throat; Miller is so _close_ and yet so far, almost touching him but not quite and David wants _more._ He strokes himself a little faster, a little rougher and lets his head tilt back against the Master’s shoulder, eyes shut, breath coming in soft gasps as he drags his thumb over the tip.

Miller hums next to his ear. “There you go, boy,” he dips lower until he’s covering David’s hand with his own and David flat-out moans this time because _fuck,_ he’s been imagining this for months now, trying to force the thoughts from his mind every time Miller has so much as looked in his direction and now he’s got his hand wrapped around his dick and it’s almost too much. Miller laughs at him and Dave just squirms, bucks into their joined hands like a horny teenager and makes an embarrassingly loud, broken noise. “Desperate, kid?”

David makes a noise that sounds almost like “please” and Miller nudges his hand out of the way and takes over. His strokes are rougher than Dave is used to, a bit more friction than is strictly pleasurable but he knows what he’s doing, twisting his wrist _just_ right until Dave is putty in his hands. Miller huffs out a breath next to his ear and moves a little faster, drawing out a low groan. “Fuck, Master,” Dave’s hand finds purchase in Miller’s hair, grabbing tight enough to pull a few strands loose from his ponytail.

Immediately, Miller stops, reaching up to swat David’s hand away. “Did I _say_ you could do that, David?” He hisses, voice low in Dave’s ear.

David’s breath catches at his tone, whimpering at the sudden loss of contact and bucking his hips reflexively. “Sorry, Master,” Dave manages haltingly, whining and grinding his hips back against Miller’s. He can feel his cock, hard and heavy through his fatigues and Miller lets out a strangled moan at the friction, canting his own hips forward.

Miller’s voice is a little rougher when he speaks this time. “Good,” his touch is agonizingly light when he wraps his fingers back around Dave’s cock, his bionic hand slipping from its spot around his neck and burying in his hair instead, pulling hard enough that David gasps, bucks into his touch. He’s teasing this time, strokes languid, drawn out, nearly painful in their slowness and David whimpers, pushes back against him as if maybe the teasing will encourage him to move faster but all he earns is a groan and his name hissed in his ear. “Fuck,” Miller sounds breathless, broken, like he’s the one being torn apart slowly. “Come on, kid,” he pants, “beg for it.”

Dave doesn’t need to be told twice. “Please,” he doesn’t hesitate, already too desperate to care by this point, and the Master immediately rewards him by moving faster, “fuck, Master, _please_.” Miller’s prosthetic hand tightens in his hair, pulls hard enough to _really_ hurt and, oh, alright, Dave didn’t realize how into that he was but he’s moaning Miller’s name again without thinking and bucking into his hand.

Miller laughs low in his ear. “Good boy.”

That’s enough to send David over the edge. “Master,” his voice cracks as Miller strokes him through his orgasm, his other hand still tight in his hair, breath warm on his face, murmuring praises in his ear as he comes down from his high, shuddering under his touch.

“Well,” Miller steps back, matter-of-fact as ever, and makes a face at the mess on his hand and wipes it off on Dave’s pants before giving him a serious look, “get yourself cleaned up and on the field in five, soldier.” He wanders toward the mirror and readjusts his glasses before taking his hair down out of his ponytail and holding the hair elastic between his teeth. Despite the robotic arm, he goes through the motions mostly single-handedly, smoothing the blond strands into something resembling order and grabbing the hair tie before finally using his other arm to help pull it into a ponytail, almost like an afterthought.

He’s already halfway through turning around when David gathers the courage to clear his throat. “Uh, Master?”

Miller stops mid-stride. “Yes?” He adjusts his glasses, crosses one arm over the other in a way that’s unmistakably impatient.

David has managed to get himself tucked back into his boxers, at least, but he’s aware of how ridiculous he still must look, pants hanging around his thighs, shirt raked up, hair messy. He can’t see Miller’s eyes through the glasses, but he can still see the little amused smile playing on his lips and Dave knows there must be a flush spreading over his own cheeks. “Well, uh,” his mouth runs dry and Miller tilts his head, taps his foot, “are we not gonna… talk about, uh, _that_?”

“Not when you’re already fifteen minutes late,” Master says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He goes to leave and David considers trying to stop him, but instead he’s just left standing, staring at his back. “However,” his voice carries through the empty locker room, “if you’re interested, we could always finish this conversation in my office this evening.”

The door swings shut before Dave can answer, but he is _definitely_ going to take the Master up on that offer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Miller's office, eight p.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. i never intended to have a second chapter but here we are

The door to Miller’s office is closed. It isn’t surprising – his door is _always_ closed – and yet it nearly makes David lose his nerve. He pauses outside the door and stares it down like maybe it’ll open on its own if he looks at it long enough. It doesn’t.

So he knocks.

Miller’s voice is warm as ever from the other side: “I was wondering if you were going to stand there all night or not. Come in.”

David slinks into his office, head down, and the click of the door shutting behind him feels like the door slamming shut on a jail cell. He is slow to meet the Master’s gaze, but when he does look up, Miller is just looking at him, looking _through_ him. He swallows. “So. Uh. Did you,” Dave clears his throat, “did you want to talk about… today?”

Miller’s got his feet (well, his foot and prosthetic, David realizes) on his desk, leaning far enough back in his chair that Dave is a little worried it’s going to topple over. “About what, kid? Spit it out.” Dave can’t see his eyes past the aviators he’s wearing (inside, at eight p.m., but, well, that’s just Miller, isn’t it?), but there’s the ghost of a smile playing over his lips that only serves to make Dave feel that much more unsure.

“You, uh, jerked me off in the showers.”

“Mmhmm. And?”

“And you invited me to come to your office later to, um… discuss it.”

“Oh, is that it?” Miller quirks an eyebrow, “You looked so serious, I thought you were going to propose for something.” He grins and David prays to every god he can think of that Miller doesn’t see the heat rising in his cheeks. “Sit down, boy.”

Dave does as he’s told. The Master’s in his work clothes now, not his training tank top and fatigues, but the top button on his shirt is left undone and his ponytail is starting to slip free, a few thin blond strands already falling near his face. David just barely catches a glimpse of too-pale blue eyes over the top of his glasses and it’s like a jolt of electricity down his spine. He shifts in his seat and David knows he’s waiting for him to speak, so he clears his throat and finds his voice. “It just seemed a little… weird, is all?”

“Was it?” He tilts his head, that same smile on his face. It reminds Dave of a cat chasing a mouse, a predator and his prey.

Dave swallows. “You just never seemed interested before.”

“Kid.” Miller puts his feet down and leans forward, torturously slow. The air in the room seems stifling, suddenly, like it's going to collapse under the weight of the Master's gaze at any moment. “I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

“…Ah.” It’s not the reply David was expecting. Wracking his brain now, he recalls every lingering touch on his shoulder, every smile off the field, every joking remark, every scrap of praise, and everything comes into focus. “You… really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“For months?”

“Mmhmm.”

Dave decides he’s probably an idiot for not noticing sooner. They’re both quiet for a moment, deadlocked. On one hand, David realizes, his next move could cost him his position and Miller his job.

On the other hand, well. Miller started it.

“Does that mean you’d be interested in doing it again sometime?” Dave chooses his words carefully, but he’s acutely of aware of the fact that he may be signing his own death warrant with this one.

“Why did you think I called you in here, David?” Miller rests his chin on his flesh hand, regards Dave coolly over the top of his glasses. To be fair, they both know why he’s here. Miller knew exactly what he was inviting Dave into, and Dave knew he was taking the bait the moment he opened that door. Miller smiles that warm, charming smile. “You never did return the favor, kid.”

Even when David has been expecting it, Miller’s voice sends chills down his spine. All the confidence he has on the field means nothing when Miller is looking at him like that, waiting, expectant. He’s giving David one last out, a chance to walk away and pretend none of this ever happened, to go back to being teacher and student, to go back to shooting him longing glances when he thinks he isn’t looking and jacking off in the showers before training just to avoid getting a hard-on when he tells him he’s done a good job.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he says, obedient as ever: “What do you want me to do?”

The air shifts. Miller’s voice is low when he speaks again. “Come here, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

David follows orders on instinct; it’s a part of being a solider, trained obedience drilled into his head that he can’t just turn off at will. When Miller tells him to jump, he says how high. When he tells him to come here, he’s at his side in an instant. Master reaches up and fists his bionic hand in the front of Dave’s t-shirt, dragging him down until their lips meet. Dave has been kissed before, but Miller’s kiss is bruising, nipping deliberately at his bottom lip and all but forcing his tongue into his mouth. David cedes the kiss to him, lets him take what he wants until he’s practically falling on top of him, just barely managing to catch himself on the edge of Miller’s desk lest he ends up in his lap. Dave is panting when they part, but Miller is grinning. “You ever sucked dick before, kid?”

“I…Well, no.”

Miller kisses him again, a quick bite to his lip. “Well, you’re about to. Get on your knees.”

He doesn’t have to tell him twice. David sinks instantly, Miller shifting his chair a little to give him more space, and stares up at him, waiting. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” Miller’s flesh hand comes to rest in his hair, deceptively gentle before he twists his fingers and pulls, just enough for David to get the hint. He leans forward, tries to hide the trembling of his fingers as he reaches for Miller’s belt buckle, scowls when he laughs at his hesitation. Dave can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses but he can feel his gaze, hot on his skin, and looks up to meet it carefully as he unbuttons his pants and pulls down his fly.

David realizes belatedly that he’s a little out of his depth when he finally frees Miller’s cock from his underwear. He wasn’t lying when he told Miller he had never done this before – he expected his experience _getting_ blowjobs would help when it came to _giving_ one, but he’s just staring now, dumbstruck. The Master makes an impatient noise above him and tugs lightly at his hair and that’s enough to spur Dave into action; he wraps one hand around the base and gives a tentative lick, relishing in the soft, pleased noise Miller makes in return. He gains confidence then as Miller’s cock fills out in his hand, licking long stripes along his length, swiping his tongue over the head and tasting him, salty and musky and something unique to him on his tongue. He hazards a glance up through his lashes and catches the Master with his head tilted back, breathing already labored. David can’t help but feel a bit proud of himself when Miller groans above him, fingers pulling tighter in his hair. He leans back a little, flashes Miller a cheeky grin. “Does this count as training, Master?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coping an attitude when you’re on your knees like that, soldier,” Miller’s voice is already wrecked, a little breathless, the teasing edge to his voice almost lost to the roughness it’s taken now. “Mm, but you’re usually quicker to pick up new things in training than this,” he murmurs, “c’mon.” He pulls Dave closer by his hair and Dave knows exactly what he’s asking without him saying anything else, breathes deep and looks up at him. Miller gives him his most encouraging teacher smile, releases his hold on his hair and brushes his fingers over his cheek instead, gentler than David expects of him. David fidgets, but eventually leans forward and takes the head of Miller’s cock into his mouth carefully, runs his tongue along the underside and watches Miller’s face as closely as he can.

David realizes he has even less idea of what he’s doing than he thought he would. He’s panting as he pulls back. “Is that good?”

“Mm,” Miller hums, pushes a stray bit of hair back from Dave’s face, “not bad, but you can do better.” He says it like a challenge, like they’re on the field and he’s pushing Dave just a _little_ bit farther. Dave’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He swallows Miller’s cock again with renewed vigor, eager to please now that Miller has spurred him on, sinking lower until he’s nearly gagging on it. “Good,” he practically purrs, “that’s it. Here,” he shifts his hips up and David is gagging in earnest now, hands braced on Miller’s thighs, fingers digging into the flesh. “Relax your throat,” Miller strokes his fingers back through Dave’s hair, “breathe through your nose.”

It helps marginally; David manages to swallow a little more, his lips meeting his hand where it’s wrapped around the base, and Miller makes a deep, pleased noise. His technique is a little awkward; doesn’t quite know what to do with his tongue, coughing and sputtering when he moves a little too far, his hand moving in a silted rhythm to match the unsure bob of his head. Miller yanks his hair back without warning and Dave pulls off with a soft pop, looks up at him with wide eyes as Miller clicks his tongue at him. “Don’t get sloppy, David,” he’s pulling hard enough on David’s hair hard enough to hurt, bionic hand gripping his jaw, “watch your teeth.” He slides two metal fingers past Dave’s lips, the steel cold and metallic on his tongue. Dave’s own cock is straining against his pants, painfully hard as Miller forces his fingers deeper. He laughs cruelly when Dave gags, the same cruel laugh Dave’s used to hearing in training, low in his chest.

David moans in earnest when the Master grinds the heel of his boot into his crotch, whimpers in mixed pleasure and pain, drooling pathetically around the fingers shoved far enough into the back of his throat that his eyes are watering as he stares up at the sadistic grin on Miller’s face. “You gonna be good now, boy?” Dave nods and finally Miller releases him, pulls his fingers from his mouth, slick with spit.

“Yes, sir,” David is still drooling; Miller wipes his lips off with his metal thumb almost tenderly before finally pulling his hand back, watching as Dave takes his cock back into his mouth, far more careful this time than before. It doesn’t take as long for him to find his rhythm this time; he’s a quick study, remembering the way Miller moaned when he swirled his tongue over the head and repeating the motion again, earns a shuddering groan in response. He bucks up into David’s mouth, moans like he’s coming undone above him.

“Fuck,” Master hisses, “good boy,” and _God,_ David still doesn’t expect the way the phrase goes straight to his cock, makes him whine around the dick in his mouth. Miller’s hips jerk up and David can hear by the way his breathing goes ragged that he’s close, head tilted back, flesh hand still tangled in David’s hair, tugging him forward incessantly. “That’s it, baby, like that,” Miller is babbling now, soft praises falling from his lips with increasing frequency, voice low, rough. It doesn’t take long until he’s falling apart. He tugs David back by his hair roughly and he doesn’t even have time to react before there’s a stripe of cum painting his cheek, his chin, Miller moaning and cursing above him.

By the time Miller’s ridden out his orgasm, Dave is left dumbstruck, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Oh,” he brings one hand to his chin and his finger comes away sticky and white. Tentatively, his tongue flicks out, lapping at it and immediately making a face. It tastes salty, a little metallic – not all that pleasant, but the way Miller laughs makes it worth it.

Miller reaches down to grab the front of Dave’s shirt and drags him up. “Mm,” he hums, his own tongue laving over the stripe of cum on Dave’s cheek, “good job, David.” He kisses him then, still just as heated; he tastes like alcohol and cinnamon mouthwash, bitter and warm all at once, his teeth catching on David’s already sore lower lip.  

Dave finds himself straddling the Master’s lap without even thinking about it, bracing himself with his arms around his neck and kissing him back until they’re both breathless. “Thanks,” he breathes out against Miller’s lips, voice hoarse.

“Mmhmm,” Miller trails lower, pressing lazy kisses to David’s jaw, his neck. He palms David’s still-hard cock lazily through his pants, his bionic arm wrapped around his back to keep him from falling. Dave whimpers at even the smallest bit of contact but Miller grins wickedly when he pulls back. “Alright, solider,” he says, “you’re dismissed.” He gives him another quick kiss and a gentle shove, Dave almost toppling backwards before he catches himself. “Here,” he produces a handkerchief as David rights himself, “might want to clean yourself up first, kid.”

David wipes his face down, but figures there’s not much hope for his hair, just thankful it’s short enough that no one will notice. By the time he’s finished, the Master seems to have already returned to his paperwork, leaning over the desk as if nothing happened at all. Dave is left standing self-consciously. He clears his throat.

“I told you you’re dismissed, David.” Miller doesn’t look up.

“Uh…” Dave realizes belatedly he doesn’t know what he wants to say. “Right. Yes, sir.”

“And David?” Dave pauses right as his hand touches the doorknob, going rigid at the sound of Miller’s voice. “If you’d like this to continue, I expect to see you here at the same time tomorrow. Understood?”

When David looks behind him, Miller is peering at him over his glasses expectantly. After a moment’s hesitation, he nods. “Yes, sir.”


End file.
